Death Wish: Past and Present
by Robin Mask
Summary: There were some things Peter hoped never to face . . . The suffering he experienced was in the past, but - during the rescue of a child - that past was brought into his present. Peter would need to confess to Wade. Who else would understand?


**Death Wish: Past and Present**

Peter paused outside the door . . .

It would take only a brief second to check in on them. He could feel the cold handle beneath his hand, enough that it dug into his skin and grounded him in the moment, but it had begun to hurt and to remove it would be to return to the shaking. Peter felt trapped in the moment, unable to move forward or step back. It was difficult to endure, for he felt almost claustrophobic within his own body, and he realised that he was breathing erratically. Why couldn't he breathe?

Peter shook his head and slowly opened the bedroom door, although he felt a sharp twinge of guilt that he had never before felt. He knew that he had a right to check in on the children, to make sure that Ellie and May were both okay, but suddenly he felt as if he were invading their privacy . . . worse . . . perhaps he had no right at all. There had been so much that had happened that evening, which had prevented him from coming home to say goodnight to the girls, and now he kept hearing the same voice over and over in his mind . . . that voice that told him that he wasn't worth their love. He felt as if he had betrayed Wade, and by betraying Wade he had betrayed them all.

"I can do this," he whispered.

He quietly opened the door. Inside there was a large bed with a small nightlight by the side, which cast a rather beautiful glow about the occupants. It seemed that the girls had another sleepover, or that perhaps May had just refused to sleep in her room again, so that Ellie's arms were wrapped around the five-year-old girl, who – in turn – clutched tightly at her Spider-Man plush toy. They looked so content and so beautiful, as well as at perfect peace. He felt his eyes water.

He gave a choked laugh at the sight of his daughter. There was almost clown-like make-up on May, as if she had fought her way into Ellie's make-up bag and decided to pretend to be just like her big sister, and her brown hair stood in all directions. He almost wanted to wake her up, just so her could look at her blue eyes and reassure himself that she was completely okay, but clearly she had a busy evening and was probably in need of her sleep. There was popcorn everywhere, including in Ellie's black hair that was tied loosely behind her. It seemed like they had a great night. The stack of movies to the side and pillow fort proved Wade had joined them.

Peter smiled and wiped away a tear from his face, before he gently pulled the door shut and tiptoed his way over to his bedroom. He turned off the hallway light on his way past, as he briefly wondered why Wade hadn't stayed up to wait for him, and then slipped his way into the bedroom. Their bed was messy on Wade's side, so that the sheets and duvet had become one tangled mess, and in the _en suite_ he could hear the water running and see the steam from under the door. Well, that explained where his husband had hidden away.

'_Is that you, Petey?'_

"Yeah! I'm sorry I'm so late."

'_No problem! There's always time to join me!'_

Peter flinched. It wasn't that the idea of joining his husband was unpleasant, but it just didn't feel right and there was still that lingering fear . . . what if Wade knew? Even if he didn't know, Peter felt that he had no right to touch or hold or love the other man, because everything was just so _fresh _in his mind. He wanted to shower, but he wanted to shower _alone_. He wanted to feel _clean_, not . . . not dirty himself further . . . he just didn't know how to tell Wade that. He didn't want to hurt him.

"I'm just going to head to bed," he called back.

'_Good idea! More space to get cray-cray!'_

There was barely enough time to strip to his boxers, before Wade bounded through the door and dove onto the bed. He hit it with such force that he actually bounced off the bed entirely, which required him to climb back in and bounce a little up and down on his butt, and he then sat eagerly cross-legged with a wide smile. Peter bit the inside of his lip hard to stop his eyes from watering, before he looked away with a sad smile that made his lips tremble. He usually loved the sight of his naked husband.

Peter forewent changing into his nightclothes. He instead walked over to the bed and climbed into his side, before he reached up and turned off the lamp that lit up the room, and then took the opportunity to curl in on himself. The duvet provided a welcome cocoon, whilst in the darkness he didn't have to see the disappointment on his husband's face, and when he even _thought _about the fact that Wade would be expecting more . . . that he would wonder what he had done wrong . . . he felt himself begin to cry silently to himself. He couldn't help it. He felt his throat swell painfully, whilst his eyes stung with the tears that came.

"Hey? Petey?"

"I – I just want to sleep, okay?"

"No, not okay, baby boy," Wade muttered. "You were supposed to be home ages ago! It's not like you to be late! Plus, you know that I can't handle the girls all on my own! You know little Mayday got pancake batter all over the kitchen, then she got make-up all over her face, and I found a mud-pie in the bathtub, too! I _wish _that was a euphemism, but it's actual mud! There's a worm in the shampoo!

"I waited up for you, but then it got super late! I figured I'd give myself a hand in the bathroom, but it's nowhere near as good as you! I only have two hands, too! Oh, it's _easy _to get clean inside and out, but what happened to good, old, soapy foreplay? I tried to ring you, which was way frustrating, because – _come on _– you haven't even customised your voicemail! I kept getting some bitchy voice that _so _sounded like she was mocking me and -! You never just want to sleep! You always want to cuddle or talk or grade some papers or get busy or -! Are you alright, Petey?"

"I'm fine," said Peter. "It's just -! It's just been a long day . . . I just want to sleep and pretend like it never happened. I – I just – I mean -! Could -? Could you just . . . hold me? I – I know I'm late and I probably don't deserve it, but . . . please?"

"You asking me to hold you? You'd have to ask me not to!"

"Thanks, Wade. Thank you."

Wade scooted under the covers with a gentle laugh. He felt warm against Peter, which proved to be more reassuring than he thought possible. The body of his husband pulled him back into the present, reminded him that he was safe and sound, and even the rough scars and sores against his skin felt a small comfort. It felt more than he deserved. Peter drew in a broken breath and felt his tears fall, even as he nuzzled back and tried to press himself completely against the man behind him.

"I can feel you crying," said Wade.

It was then that he felt Wade kiss his head. That was all Peter needed to break down completely, where he then turned around and wrapped his arms around his husband's waist and held him tightly. They were nearly the same height now, but – even after Peter's growth spurt back in his teens – Wade was still substantially more muscular, which was something that he always appreciated. He breathed in deep Wade's scent, although he noted that the other man was still damp from he shower.

They simply held each other for a long time, before they began to move. Wade lifted Peter slightly, so that he couldn't hide in the crook of Wade's neck or under his chin, and – through the darkness – they were forced to look at one another. It nearly made Peter laugh to see the very faint outline of lipstick on Wade, as well as the remnants of what appeared to be eyeliner, and he was fairly certain that the older man probably made no fuss at all about his youngest daughter insisting on a 'makeover'. He wished that he could have been there to take photographs, but instead he had missed it.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I – er – went to the old apartment today."

"Yeah? I can't believe you still kept that on! It's almost as if you kept it as backup, in case you and me went splits-ville! _Still possible. _After all this time? I doubt it. Hey, shut up! He loves us! Aw, I love you, too, Petey! You know I love you, right?"

"I know," Peter said with a laugh. "I love you, too. Look, what can I say? The apartment was a good investment and the rent adds to the girls' savings accounts, and I _know _between your money and mine that we don't need any extra, but it makes me feel a little safer to know we always have that steady source. You don't work and my new teaching job isn't the best paying job ever, and I hate the idea of relying on my parents. I don't want the girls to just be _given _everything."

"Your pops is right, you have way too much of a work ethic!"

"I do," said Peter. "They will, too."

Peter laughed a little and placed a soft kiss to Wade's lips. He was suddenly well aware that his husband was completely naked, with his body pressed against his, and there was a terrible sense of conflict throughout his body. There was a part of him that longed to be intimate, especially as it could provide a vital sense of distraction from all that he felt, but there was another part of him that felt he didn't deserve it. He kissed Wade nervously again and drew in a staggered breath.

"Our old tenants moved out," he said.

"Aw," Wade teased. "You missed them so much you got all teary-eyed? That's so cute! If you know where they've gone, we can leave a fruit basket! Seriously though, I hate to see you sad! What happened? Can I fix it? Do I need to hurt someone?"

"What? No. No! I sorted it, I promise. I just went in to make sure that there was no damage and everything was in order, so we could get some new people in sooner rather than later, but . . . I heard something. There's this kid that lives next door . . . I think – I think he's the younger brother of a student of mine. I've seen him about from time to time . . . his name's Tony and he seems happy enough, but . . . I heard him – I heard him _really _upset. It was like – like he was fending off an attack -!

"I – I don't know! I should never have given up being Spider-Man! How could I be so _selfish_? He was crying and shouting and I -! I had to lock up and then go over and _knock _the door! I – I couldn't stop it . . . I just had to _hope _someone came to the door . . . _hope_ that it stopped! Tony was being hurt and my costume was here in our _stupid_ basement! I – I had to _wait_! Some girl eventually answered the door, but . . . I _saw _the look on the kid's face. I _heard _what he had been saying to her . . . how he asked her to stop . . . I – I got so angry! I told her that I knew what she had done. She ran. I don't know where, but she _ran_! I was just left _standing_ there with a devastated boy!

"I never thought that I would have to deal with something like that again, you know? I mean . . . just how common are things like this? He was just a kid, but she had been trying to _touch _him. How could he stop her? Heck, even if he had said yes, how would he have known what he was saying yes _to_? It was so wrong! I never felt hatred to that kind of level before, but I -! I _hate_ that girl! I hate her! It was a good job that I _had _been there, because –! _God_! That sort of thing never leaves a person! He could have carried that with him forever! _He's just a child_!"

"Shit. I'm sorry, Petey. I know that kind of anger. You did well not hunting the bitch down and slicing her open, because – let me tell you – I would have made sure she'd never hurt any kid ever again. You're a better man than I am. Is this what's bothering you? It sounds like you _saved _a kid from something that can't be undone. You _saved _him, baby boy. You did good. You're a hero."

"I don't feel like a hero."

Peter clenched his hands into fists. They were pressed firmly against his husband's back, whilst he burrowed his head into the crook of Wade's neck, and he breathed in deep to try and quell his emotions. The intimate moment between them helped him to keep himself in check, but the fact was that this was the first time that he had ever been confronted with his past in years . . . it was like he was living it _through _Tony. It was like he had finally been given a voice and yet knew not how to use it.

The room was dark, but Wade had forgotten to turn off the _en suite _light, as such there was enough light to make out his husband beside him and the expression that he wore upon his face. There were those that considered Wade to be amoral, even immoral, but he drew a line at hurting anyone innocent, and this was a crime that he would never be able to forgive. Peter could see the tension to his jaw. He was worried for a moment that his husband may crack a tooth or bite a hole into his lip, but instead he stayed strong and kept his piercing gaze locked on Peter. It was as if he felt afraid to look away, in case Peter gave him some cue or expressed some need.

There was a long moment of silence between them, where the only sounds came from a leaky tap in the bathroom that Wade had yet to fix, as well as the sound of Ellie running barefoot in the corridor to her bathroom, where he later heard a flush and footsteps running back. It was slightly worrying, because Wade usually let his mouth run and run . . . the 'merc with the mouth' . . . it wasn't like him to be at a loss for words. Peter heard him sigh and then saw him give a somewhat bright smile, enough that it could almost be believed as something real and not forced.

"Is the kid okay now?"

"Yeah," said Peter. "It turned out that she was his babysitter. I think he said her name was Judith or Judy? I sat down with him and explained that it wasn't his fault. I know how he feels, so I made sure that he knew he wasn't alone . . . that's always the worst part, isn't it? I didn't want him to blame himself, because he suffered enough without beating himself up for it. I explained that he needed to tell an adult, but that there was no shame in what happened or in telling someone. I said I'd be there with him.

"I rang his parents and they came home, and – and he told them everything! He was so brave . . . I think I was crying, because it was just so _awful _to hear _anyone _say those words, but when he was the same age as Ellie? A kid like that should be playing football or soccer, or making excuses not to do their homework, or – or – or _anything_! I mean -! _Fuck_! I guess he was lucky in a way . . . it hadn't happened before and I'd heard in time to stop it from going further, so I think his parents said that they would call the police and get him in touch with a therapist, just as a precaution. I gave them my number, in case they needed a witness or something."

"Petey? I want to ask you a question, okay? I need you to be honest with me, because this is really important. I swore that I'd always protect you and keep you safe, so I need to know the truth, all right? You said you know how that kid feels. You said it happened before. I just need to know, but did someone do to you what that bitch did to the kid? Did someone _hurt _you like that, too?"

"I-it was just once. I – I mean – it was in the past."

"Petey . . ."

Wade held onto Peter so hard that it almost hurt. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him impossibly close, and then pressed his lips firm against Peter's brown locks and brought one hand up to cup his neck. It was then that Peter realised that his husband was crying, but – without his mask – he had no way to hide his pain and yet felt unable to show his pain to Peter. He would want to put Peter first, but – if Peter saw those tears – the younger man would only be worried about him instead.

It was a small act of kindness that Peter appreciated, although he would never draw attention to, and he held back just as tightly. He knew that his husband wanted to reassure him, as well as to put him first, and he _needed _that at that very moment, because he just needed to feel less alone. He needed _Wade_. There was no one else in the world that would understand as Wade understood, and yet he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt . . . Wade had suffered this way too, so it felt unfair to make him relive his pain just to comfort Peter. It was in the _past_. There was no sensible reason for why Peter felt as devastated as he did, but . . . he felt it. _He felt it_.

"Just because something happened," said Wade, "don't mean it's in the past."

"I told you. It was just one time. It's over."

"It ain't ever over, Petey."

Wade pressed soft kisses to his hair. It was oddly comforting, but something about it made him feel a spark of anger. He just wanted to _forget _everything that had happened, especially as what happened with the Tony boy had been a shock, and yet Wade seemed insistent on talking about it, as if it were still happening or still an issue, and Peter wasn't sure he was strong enough to relive that pain again. He clung tighter.

"What do you want me to say?" Peter asked.

"Look, I know what it's like, too," said Wade. "It was just the one time for me, although I guess there's a version of me out there that it's probably canon, like a me where it was systematic and stuff. The multiverse is a big place! I don't know which is worse, but I don't think there's such a thing as 'worse'. I mean, everyone has different reactions, but a violation is a violation, right? I still get nightmares. I still sometimes feel dirty. It ain't right, but it's not our fault."

"I-it's different, okay. I know you don't like to talk about it, not properly, but whatever happened . . . of course it wasn't your fault! I mean . . . why would it be? How could you even think that? Wade . . . are you okay?"

"This isn't about me," he whispered.

It was then that Wade sat them both up. There was an awkward fumbling of pillows, followed by a strange contortion of movements from them both, but eventually they managed to sit up next to one another. Wade pulled Peter into his lap, where he then wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled the younger man up against him. Peter gave a sad smile. It felt nice to sit as they were, especially as he rested his head against Wade's bare chest and heard his heartbeat, and he enjoyed the way their legs intertwined and how warm the sheets felt against him. It was a small comfort.

"Want me to go first? I tell you mine, you tell me yours?"

"T-there isn't anything to tell," Peter insisted.

Peter felt Wade laugh through his chest. It was a low and heavy vibrating sensation, which was slightly uncomfortable as it shifted him from a rather enjoyable spot and forced him to readjust against his husband. He gave a soft frown, which Wade must have seen, for he at once began to laugh in earnest, before he gave a shuddered breath and pressed a messy kiss to Peter's head. It then felt like the shaking had changed, so that he was sure Wade was crying again. Peter closed his eyes to hold back tears.

They held together in silence for a short while, before Peter pulled away to sit next to his husband, instead of on his lap. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, whilst he leaned slightly to his left to rest his head on Wade's shoulder, where his husband draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled the covers up to prevent a cold from irritating them. It hurt Peter to think that Wade had endured so much, as well the fact that he wanted to comfort him, but somehow felt unable . . . perhaps they could comfort each other? Peter felt the tears roll.

"I felt the same way," muttered Wade.

"I – I know it hurts you to talk about it, you don't –"

"Yeah, I do," Wade said. "You need to put yourself first sometimes, sweetums. The longer you hold stuff in, the harder you'll break! Say, if you don't want to tell me, it's cool, but let me tell about what happened to me, okay? I was a lot older than you, I'm willing to guess. I was an adult . . . all fully-grown! You'd think it'd be easier, but maybe it was just harder for me as I'm pretty crazy at the best of times, or maybe it's always hard no matter what your age. I couldn't say. I don't want to say.

"Look, you know how I was way in to Syrin way back? Well, I was in a bad place and went to her for some validation, just wanted her to tell me that I was worth something, because I felt like shit . . . kept hearing this voice . . . it kept telling me that the best thing I could ever do is die. I can't die, though. I felt dizzy and sick and my head was filled with all these bad thoughts and I just wanted someone to tell me that it'd all be okay! I was sad and crying, but she just walked away! I was in a bad place . . . real bad. It was like she ripped out my heart and confirmed my every last fear. I was worthless after all, but what could I do? I couldn't even kill myself. _Worthless_.

"Anyway, she comes out later on, right, all apologetic and stuff. We end up making love, and it's all sweet and tender, and I feel like maybe – _just maybe _– I got a shot at bettering myself, but . . . I wake up and it's fucking _Mary_. The bitch had disguised herself as _Syrin_. I – I hadn't been making love to my girl, but fucking some – some rapist bitch that I didn't even know it was her! I felt sick. I should have known, right? I should have spotted something was wrong. She had _used _me. She had seen me at my most vulnerable, seen me at my most intimate."

Wade clenched hard with his hand, which caused him to accidentally scratch Peter's chest and leave a few sore marks, whilst his other hand tore small holes into the sheets to his side. Peter bit his lip to keep from crying. He could see the strain to Wade's jaw, as well as the _fury _in his eyes, and Wade kept his head low . . . he glared at the tangled sheets about his lap . . . he even appeared flushed red with his anger. It was always difficult to see Wade so angry, but this time he felt so helpless to stop it.

"I'm so sorry, Wade," said Peter.

"It ain't nothing." Wade gave a rather fake smile. "I won't lie to you, because it was awful, but I've got you now and I got a family and I'm one of the good guys! I keep thinking how proud Steve and Logan must be of me! I felt dirty at first, because I should have known or fought back or whatever . . . I took shower after shower, because I felt so dirty, like I was only worth what people _took _from me, like I was just _filth_, but I just couldn't get clean! Al held me all night and I just cried all that time."

"You – you didn't know that it was Mary. How _could _you have said no? It was her fault that she lied to you . . . she _raped _you! You couldn't consent. You know that you're a good man, don't you? You didn't deserve that. You're – you're good, Wade, I don't . . . I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry . . ."

"What makes you think that _you _deserved it either?"

"It was different," said Peter.

He flinched a little at the thought. It was hard not to be incredibly aware of his husband's arm on him, as he could feel the bare skin against his own, just as he could feel the sheets on his body and see the beginnings of Wade's length where the sheet didn't quite cover him. It felt all too intimate, too close. There had never been a moment in all their romantic relationship where he had feared Wade, but somehow – despite his love – he felt afraid of this moment.

He felt _dirty_. He felt as if just by _touching _Wade that he was somehow sullying his husband, and the memory of what happened to him was suddenly so _fresh_, so that he couldn't help but associate this skin-to-skin contact with what happened in the past. It was all so vivid in his mind, so real, as if he could reach out and _save _his past self from what was about to happen, but he _couldn't_. He knew logically that he was not to blame for what happened to him, but emotionally he couldn't help but to question it, and – if he were to blame – how could he ever compare his pain to Wade's? He felt the panic begin to rise. He felt himself unable to breathe. He was _scared_.

"Peter," whispered Wade. "It's okay."

"N-no," said Peter. "I – I mean . . . I know it's okay. It's just -! I don't know, I guess today with that Tony boy brought it all back. We never really talked about it growing up, plus I always pretended that it never happened, because – I guess – if I didn't think about it then it was like it never happened. I always blamed myself, but seeing Tony like that . . . I knew it couldn't be his fault, just as I would _never _blame him, so – so why did I blame myself? We're so similar. If it wasn't his fault, then –"

"Then how was it yours?"

"Yeah."

Peter dropped his head back and let it rest against Wade's arm, as he hoped that he didn't hurt his husband by squeezing his arm too much against the headboard, but there was a strange sense of relief in just _admitting _that it happened. It was a relief to admit that it may _not _have been his fault. This had been a secret and a burden in his life for so long, so that it finally felt like a weight off his shoulders, but he felt so _exposed _all of a sudden, as if he had hidden behind that secret shame, as if he was now forced to look at _himself_. It was a vulnerable feeling.

"It wasn't your fault," said Wade.

"I – I know that . . . I think. It's just difficult. I mean . . . I was a pretty nerdy kid, even by my current standards I was considered nerdier than most, complete with glasses and pretty short, too. I had _no _friends at all. I was twelve and I had no one that I could hang around with or talk to and I – well . . . I was _lonely_. I had MJ, but I couldn't be with her all the time, and sometimes I would watch her playing with other kids our age and feel . . . jealous. I felt sad that I couldn't be like them.

"I guess I was naïve," Peter said with a sad smile. "I should have _known _something was up, but I just . . . _ugh_! I used to go to the library after school, where I would read and study and hang out, until Happy would come to take me home or Aunt May would pick me up to spend the weekend at her place. I would spend hours and hours there each day. It was like my haven, you know? It was a place where I could just be myself and read and study, where I didn't have to worry about bullies or name-calling, and – er – it was where I met Skip. He – he was a high-school student, but he would sit with me every day and chat and help me study.

"He'd call me 'Einstein', as I was pretty smart . . . it was nice to be complimented . . . I don't remember anyone ever treating my science smarts like a good thing, except my parents and my aunt, even MJ would tease me a little. It was nice, because my interest in science was the _one _thing that I was proud about, and I _finally _had a friend, too. I asked my parents if I could hang out with him, and I guess they were all for it because they were just so happy I _finally _had a friend, and I'd go there every single day after school and at weekends. It felt like I was always at Skip's."

"This is going to end badly, isn't it?"

Peter laughed. He reached up to hold Wade's hand, which was loosely tracing patterns on his chest, and he held onto it with both hands. It was a nice comfort, enough that he found himself leaning against Wade and draped his legs across his husband's lap, and – in the darkness – he nuzzled against his side and drew in a deep breath to steady himself. The truth was that is would end badly, but the fact was that so many people had been so much worse. He felt as if he had no right to complain.

"It could have gone worse," said Peter.

He smiled weakly, as he closed his eyes and tried to be careful where he positioned his legs, so as not to distract them or to give the wrong impression about how he felt, but the fact was that the conversation might as well have been over. Peter recognised that what he endured had not been a regular occurrence, just as it hadn't been particularly violent compared to what happened to some people, and – in all honesty – he wondered if he were trivialising the plights of others by comparing his ordeal to theirs. He was haunted by what had happened to him, but did he have a right to be?

"Lots of kids go through worse," Peter continued.

"Fuck that, Petey! You really think there's some measurable scale? You think you're suffering isn't as bad as everyone else's? Pain is pain! You got hurt and you have a right to feel hurt, so don't play down the shit you went through by comparing it to everyone else! I swear -! If I find that bastard, I'll fucking rip off his balls and choke him to death on them. _No one_ hurts my family."

"That's why I'm not telling you his name. Look, I don't know what happened to him, for all I know he went to juvie or a military school or got off scot-free, what's done is done and it's all over with as far as I'm concerned. It's finished, Wade."

"So he -? He did it? He hurt you?"

"I – I guess, yeah."

They sat in silence for a long while, whilst Wade appeared to digest what he had heard, but – in the far distance – he heard the low noise of music playing, which meant that Ellie was likely awake and thought that everyone else was asleep. He would have sent Wade to tell her to sleep, that she shouldn't be awake at night to listen to music or to play games or to chat to friends, but – just this once – he would let her stay awake and break the rules. It was rare that she ever misbehaved.

Wade moved his free hand to come around and stroke Peter's hair, which was beyond soothing and threatened to lull him into a sleep, but – just as his eyes closed and his breathing slowed – Wade yanked a lock of hair sharply. He jolted back to full consciousness, before he let his eyes adjust and moaned sleepily to himself. It was then that he nuzzled further into Wade, before he gave a large yawn, and – as he opened his mouth wide – Wade used his free hand to reach in and poke his tongue quickly, in a way that he would often call 'yawn rape'. He avoided the term this time, but he smiled regardless. There was sadness to his voice when he next spoke.

"What did he do?"

"Well, his mother was away at work," said Peter. "It was just the two of us, so he got out these magazines of his . . . I don't know . . . I knew that I liked girls, but I hadn't quite hit puberty yet, so I wasn't really experimenting or interested in anything more than kisses. I knew how babies were made, I had that talk years before, but as I wasn't quite at that stage no one had gone into details or even talked about sexuality or about those kinds of things . . . I was confused. I didn't know what to think.

"I – I wasn't sure if I was _supposed _to find them interesting to look at, but he was showing me and older than me, so . . . I thought maybe it was normal to look at those kinds of magazines, but something felt wrong. I felt really uncomfortable. I told him that I'd never seen anything like it, but I didn't want to appear rude or anything, so I didn't tell him how much I was upset by it. He – he came and sat down next to me, and – and – I don't know . . . he – he said we should . . . we should try to . . . _I'm so sorry_! Please, just – just give me a second. I – I just – I need to –"

Peter drew in a staggered breath and swallowed hard. It felt difficult to breathe, but not least because his throat felt swollen and sore, so that he was scared his might choke on the sudden amount of saliva. He could feel his heart race and his eyes water, but they too stung and ached in a way he didn't think imaginable, and it was difficult to stay awake when he felt so _dizzy_. He felt light-headed and weak. He felt his body turn to liquid, and he realised then that he was crying. He was _crying_.

"You don't have to carry on," said Wade.

"He said we should try to do what the people in the magazines did," Peter admitted. "I told him that I had to go home, but I was so _frightened_! I vaguely knew what those people were doing, but I had so many questions and I was so confused and I knew that _I _didn't want to do anything like that! I just wanted to go home, but he . . . he didn't let me. He _touched _me. He _did _things. I went home afterwards and never visited him ever again, but my aunt and my parents asked questions . . . I told them."

"You did the right thing, Petey . . . telling them."

"I'm not sure what happened to Skip. I remember my mother crying and spending the next few nights in my room, sleeping on the floor next to me, whilst she'd have long talks about how it wasn't my fault. My aunt told me he'd never hurt me again. I think I remember my dad on the phone a lot, maybe talking to a lawyer or detective? He eventually came to me and told me he was proud of me. That's all I know."

Wade remained silent and continued to stroke his hair. It took a few moments, but he eventually felt his husband slide out of bed and come to his side, where he lifted Peter into his arms and lowered him into a lying position. Peter smiled a little, because sometimes Wade could just be so _childlike_. He didn't know how to make it better, so he instead began to _tuck _Peter into bed, even placing a kiss on his head and making sure the covers weren't too tight around his neck.

It reminded him of the times when the kids would get upset and Peter would tend to them, because – in the distance – he would always see his husband cleaning and tidying and organising. He had once tried to explain that the children just wanted hugs and reassurance, but then Wade would only feel _guilty_, as he would feel as if he had failed them when he was only trying to be helpful and feel as if he were doing _something _constructive, and this was one of those times. Wade felt helpless, so he helped in the only way that he could see. He did what he could to _help_.

There was another long moment when Wade went to turn off the bathroom light, before he walked back to the bed in the dark and swore as he stubbed his toe, but eventually he hopped over to the bed and crawled in, which was all Peter needed as he cuddled against his husband and gave a murmur of contentment. He could feel Wade crying still, as well as heard the little sniffles, but it was nice that Wade was trying to be strong for his sake. He placed a kiss on his bare chest and let a tear fall.

"You're braver than I am," murmured Wade.

"Am I? I mean . . . I know it's not my fault. Eighteen years later and I can _finally _say that it's not my fault, but . . . he kept talking to me through it, he'd call me names and make it seem like I'd been asking for it. I don't know . . . did I lead him on? If I had just said no more firmly, or if I hadn't hung around him so much, or maybe if I had fought back more or screamed for help . . . I keep replaying it in my mind."

"I know, Petey, I know. I replay it a lot in my mind, too, what happened to me, but all it does is make you feel that pain all over again . . . the truth is what's done is done. There's nothing you can do to change it, but there's nothing you did to _ask _for it either! You aren't blaming that Tony kid, are you? Do you blame me for what I went through? Nope! You're my cute, little spider! You know that sometimes bad things happen to good people, but only the fucking shits that do the bad things are to blame!

"How come you're so different to us? Come on! If a grown man never asked for it, how can a freaking _kid_? You didn't know better! You didn't even know what sex even was, not _really_! How can you lead someone on when you don't even know _how _to flirt, let alone what fucking _flirting _and _foreplay _even are? The only thing you were guilty of is wanting a friend and wanting to be less alone. You didn't know about predators and things, but how many kids do? You _learn _from it, Petey! We'll teach our kids to be safe, so they don't repeat our mistakes, but that don't mean you _deserved _any of it! We just got to move forward, that's all!"

Peter tried to accept what his husband said, but there was still the lingering pain and the remaining doubt in his mind. He couldn't believe that he had spent so long with this secret, having never told a living soul, but finally he had found the courage to admit aloud what he hoped never to think about since the event. The truth was that he still remembered the burning pain, just as he remembered the feeling of _violation_, and he couldn't help but fidget under the sheets and clench his cheeks together.

"It still _hurts _though, Wade," he said.

"It'll always hurt," Wade said coldly. "I sometimes think that they took a piece of us when they hurt us, but we can get it back! It's hard to be whole again, but . . . I think with you I kind of feel whole! It's weird, but the pain isn't so much what that bitch done, but more the _fear _of feeling that pain again, more the memory of it. I guess that sounds crazy, huh? It doesn't make sense. I'm here though! I'll help you!"

"It makes perfect sense. Thank you, Wade. I think . . . I think I just need to think about things, get some sleep, but . . . don't let go? _I need you_. Just – just promise me that when I wake up . . . you'll be here?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right by your side!"

"I love you. I love you so much."

Peter began to cry again, but this time there was a feeling of happiness mixed in with the pain, because he knew both what he stood to lose and what he stood to gain. There was the memory of the pain, along with the fear of ever being that vulnerable again, and yet there was also the feeling of absolute safety and security. He was strong now, with powers of his own, but he also had Wade to support him emotionally and physically, and with Wade he would never be alone ever again.

He couldn't help himself. Peter reached up to stroke Wade's cheek and then lower his head, just enough that he could place a chaste kiss to his lips, which Wade returned in kind with a warm embrace. They quickly found a position in which they could embrace one another, almost a perfect fit, and soon Peter found himself drifting away into an oddly peaceful sleep, because he knew – without a doubt – that his husband would be there in the morning to greet him. He would never be alone again with Wade by his side, just as he knew that no one would ever hurt him again. It was then that Wade spoke softly in his ear with an endearing gentleness.

"I love you, too," he said.

"_Wade _. . ."


End file.
